How to Craft a Page-Turning Plot

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a hard core plotter. I have outlines and spreadsheets. I cover tabletops with color-coded Post It notes with possible scenes. I have a system, and I work it religiously. Over the past decade, I’ve helped hundreds of authors get from a chaotic swirl of ideas to a coherent set of plot points. (Usually in under an hour.)

I am, quite frankly, a plotting freak of nature.

That’s not to say I think everyone should be a plotter. I recognize and respect “pantsers” — people who don’t do a lot of planning beforehand, preferring to work with exploratory drafts and feel the story out as they go. Neither method is inherently better than the other, and I am a firm believer in discovering and honoring your own process.

That also does not mean that I write “plot driven” books. As far as I’m concerned, all plot comes from character.

Let me repeat that, with emphasis.

ALL PLOT COMES FROM CHARACTER.

Without a solid understanding of your characters, and without a plot framework derived from those characters, you simply don’t have a sustainable plot. You have a bunch of events and several actors going through the motions.

What I’d like to go over today is why you might be having problems developing the plot of your novel. Here are the main issues I’ve seen my clients go through on a daily basis.

You’re not quite sure what “plot points” are, specifically.

Don’t get me wrong. You may be quite conversant the terms. If you’re like me, you’ve probably read a stack of writing reference books that, if toppled, could crush a small child. You also may pick up more, obsessively and compulsively, every time you’re in the bookstore or library.

(No judgment. We’re writers — it’s what we do.)

You may have studied the Snowflake Method, story engineering, things about breaking in and breaking out and saving cats. Beat sheets. Vision boards. How to write a book in a year, a month, a weekend.

Possibly because of this deluge of information, you may not be quite sure what you’re trying to accomplish in your novel. Or, conversely, you may be trying to accomplish too much, splicing different systems in a way that’s not quite working.

Keep it simple.

I write and teach genre fiction. My particular emphasis is on three act structure.

You have a protagonist. Her character is going to change by the end of the book.

The conflicts that she faces throughout the book are what institute the change.

She faces conflict because she wants something.

The inciting incident is the first domino struck: if the incident hadn’t occurred, then the protagonist would not have a goal.

The first plot point, generally the end of the first act, is where the goal is established, although the protagonist has no idea how to accomplish said goal.

The midpoint is a turning point, where the protagonist goes from reactive to proactive — from aimless to focused.

The third plot point is the hardest to pin down, where the protagonist sets up for the final act… the calm before the storm, the prep, a moment of confidence because they’re stronger.

Then, there’s the black moment, where the worst thing that can happen to the protagonist, in terms of the story goal, strikes.

Then the climax and resolution. The protagonist’s transformation is complete. Through the lessons learned, the protagonist is changed and the goal is either obtained or not, depending on the kind of story you’re writing.

That’s it, in a nutshell. Again, this isn’t the only system, and it may not be the best for you. But I have found it helps to approach it in terms of your character thinking:

– “I want this, it’s important, but I don’t know what I’m doing”

– “I know what I”m doing, but it’s going to be really hard.”

– “I may have the hang of this, but I’m scared.”

– “My soul is absolutely crushed.”

– “I have grown, changed, and become more than I was. I resolve the goal, one way or another, as a result.”

When you look at it in terms of character, emphasizing change, you’ll usually find the middle starts shaping up a bit more easily.

You don’t know your characters well enough.

Again, all plot stems from character. In genre fiction especially, this stems from the GMC — Goal, Motivation, Conflict.

I’ve blogged about this before, but if you don’t know what your character wants, or if the reason she wants it isn’t strong enough, or if the conflict is too weak, then you will have a hell of a time getting the story going.

This is a two pronged approach: there’s an external goal (the bit they usually put on the back cover blurb) and an internal goal, which is the reason driving the character.

If you don’t know what your character wants, you’ll have trouble getting started.

If you don’t know what’s driving your character to want it, then you’re going to get stuck in the middle.

[pullquote]Think like a psychologist. Find the motivating forces, the fears, the desires.[/pullquote]

This is more than just knowing their physical traits, favorite color, and childhood history. Think like a psychologist. Find the motivating forces, the fears, the desires. This is not only what creates the story goal, it’s where you’ll find the most effective motivation and the strongest pain points for conflict, both internal and external. This is the fuel for your writing engine.

You’re creating plot points for the story, rather than the characters.

This is where people get caught up with “plot driven” versus “character driven” stories. There’s no point in doing all that character work if you’re them going to approach the plot as something separate, derived from “the story.” The plot is always a showcase for character development. As a result, the more protagonists you have, the more separate plot lines you need to track.

You may find yourself flailing because, while you’ve got a lot of scenes, nothing seems to really be happening. Your conflict falls flat. There are pages and pages of throat clearing and needless wandering. There’s a lot of internal thought and exposition. But there isn’t a lot of action — because you don’t want to hurt your protagonist.

I am a plot dominatrix. My characters are put into a lot of hideous, soul-crushing pain. (And I write comedies, people!)

[pullquote]Your novel is a protagonist’s crucible.[/pullquote]

Stories are about characters who change. Change occurs as a result of conflict. Your novel is a protagonist’s crucible. Turn up the heat. You want conflict escalating in every single scene.

Yes, EVERY SCENE.

Now, I’m sure some of you will think “well, this isn’t that kind of book. I’m not writing a thriller or a murder mystery.”

But even if you’re writing a novel about a small town octogenarian couple finding romance for the first time, you still need conflict.

“Conflict” doesn’t have to mean car chases and explosions and secret babies and volcanoes. In fact, emotional conflict is one of the most powerful hooks you can use, because it’s something everyone can relate to. Not everyone has been shot. Almost everyone has had his heart broken.

And there you have it.

Story comes from character. (I feel like my Driver’s Ed teacher, who had us write “Never get in a head-on collision” a thousand times so we’d remember it. All together now: story comes from character!)

If you’re having problems creating a cohesive story, always look to your characters first. Find out their hopes, dreams and fears. Figure out the goal of your book. Then throw enough conflict at them to break them down, before forging them into the stronger characters they’ll be at the end.

What is your biggest challenge when it comes to plotting your stories?

Cathy Yardley is the author of eighteen novels, published with houses such as St. Martin’s and Avon, as well as her self-published Rock Your Writing series. She’s also a developmental editor and writing coach, helping authors complete, revise, and get their stories published. Sign up here for her newsletter to receive the free course Jumpstart Your Writing Career.

Comments

And here I thought I had this plotting thing down. It never occurred to me to view plot points as “character plot points.” I do often feel as if I’m forcing my character to fit my plot. And my beta-readers are usually quick to catch it when something seems a bit off like that.

I think my biggest challenge is that 75% mark, plot point 2. I’ve always understood it as a point where some great disaster befalls the protogonist, propelling him into his “dark night of the soul.” I think, perhaps, now that I’ve read your piece here, I might have a better angle on it. If I know my character’s “dark moment” in his past and the “big lie” that sprang from it, I can use those to turn the screws on him at plot point 2. Sound about right?

I’ve always learned, and taught, that the dark moment happens in the third act. If you’re talking about a big issue in his past, this could be something he clarifies in plot point 2… something that changes how he sees his current situation, and how he handles it. It should definitely also raise stakes and/or show just how difficult the story question is going to be. Hope that helps! :)

Sorry, Ron. I’m realizing what you’re calling Plot Point 2, I usually call Plot Point 3. (Terminology, d’oh!) That is the biggest challenge for me, as well. That’s why I usually reverse engineer it, figuring it out after I’ve settled on all the other plot points. It’s the point after which new information can be introduced (so you don’t have a lucky break or a cheat for an ending.) In a love story, it’s usually either a consummation or an admission of emotional intimacy. In a thriller, it’s usually when the characters are headed like a runaway freight train towards the face-to-face confrontation. It’s the night before the battle, the day before the big performance, the calm before the storm. Plan it last, when you have a better sense of what the storm is.

I’ve read this in lots of other writing instructional books, and most recently in a post by Chuck Wendig. I’m sure you must be right: to engage the reader in the story the storyline must be about real people making choices in difficult circumstances. Right. Now the book I’m outlining at the moment is a WW2 spy thriller. Essentially it’s about a spy who is sent behind enemy lines in order to confuse the enemy (with misinformation). I’m at a loss to know how I can relate his mission and what befalls him to his character, or if that’s even possible :)

If your character’s mission is to go behind enemy lines to spread misinformation, then he’s got a clear goal. The thing is, not everyone (heck, not even most people) would do such a thing. So why him? Why did he agree to this dangerous mission? Why did he get involved in the military in the first place? Is it because he has a clear sense of righteousness? Did someone he was close to die, prompting him to take these chances? There’s a good chance he’ll die on such a dangerous mission. Is he all alone, or will there be people who will miss him? Does he WANT to die? Is there a secret sense of glory or “I’m the smartest guy in the room” involved? What are his flaws?

If he’s doing it for glory, for example, he’s going to want to save his own hide, but still do the splashiest job, be a success. If he’s doing it for righteousness, then he’s going to want to target some wrong specifically, or achieve something that he feels will embody justice. If he’s got a deathwish, he’s going to take way bigger risks than the other two, since the real (secret) goal is to be killed.

Trust me. Character is always the core! I’m interested in seeing what you come up with.

When I was reading the article, I was thinking, “Yes! Exactly.” When I got to the end and saw it was written by Cathy, I thought, “Of course it is!”

“3.You’re creating plot points for the story, rather than the characters.”

I think that is the one place where writers get hung up. It’s a constant struggle. My way of combatting it is to constantly ask myself, “Why is that character doing that? What is the motivation? Is that a realistic reaction or motivation?”

I make an outline before I begin writing. But the characters don’t always do what I think they’ll do! When that’s the case, and it feels genuine for that character to behave in that manner, I change the outline because the characters know themselves better than I do. 😊

Thanks, Valerie! I’ve found that characters always change once you get into draft. The most detailed outline can be strangling if you don’t allow for deviations. I’ve found I always learn more about my characters as I go in and write. The key is to be flexible… and as you say, change the outline as you go, so you’ve still got some sense of where you’re going. Thanks for commenting!

Love this! WU does it best work when blogging craft like this. Thank you, Cathy. Your advice reminds me of that famous distinction: “The kind died and then the queen died” is story. The kind died, and then the queen died of grief” is plot. Was it EM Forster who said that? The story vs. plot sometimes can get jumbled, and I’ve been conflicted with the separation. I personally don’t feel them as separate when I’m writing.

I like when you say “All plot comes from character.” “Characters have plot points.” But then you also say “story comes from character.” And the “story goal” from the motivations of the character. It seems that you are saying that both story and plot come from the characters. Which makes perfect sense to me.

It’s funny, I’ve never thought about differentiating plot from story, as it were — for me, they’re inextricably linked, or else you have disembodied actions. Although when you put it that way, it’s a bit like the difference between a character’s external and internal goal. And yes, it all comes from character. Thanks for commenting,and giving me something to think about!

Cathy, Your clarity is much appreciated here! You make the distinction between plot and story much easier to understand. As a recovering Pantster, I had a lot of throat clearing and mindless wandering in my early attempts at writing fiction. I ran into every trip-up you describe above. And I’ve been paralyzed by craft-advice-saturation-syndrome. But a handful of voices rose above the din. I’ve come to appreciate the value of outlines, and the value of revising them as characters dictate. I’m adding your voice to my chorus of teachers. Thanks for a great post.

Cathy– I have your craft and marketing books, and I admire what you have to say in them–and here–for their clarity and firm commitment to basic principles. But making a habit of consuming craft books necessarily means devoting less time to reading the best novels of the kind a writer wants to write. Is it better for tennis players to read books about how to play tennis, or better to watch good tennis players, and to play a lot of tennis? I am in total agreement with you about all plot coming from character, about plots feeling empty when they aren’t enacted by honestly developed characters. As you say, this honest development requires inner conflict, not just wrestling with external ones. But I think your emphasis on the importance of inner conflict would be better understood if you didn’t insist that “stories are about characters who change. Change occurs as a result of conflict.” The clearer formulation (in my view) is not that characters change, but that conflict reveals more of their character, both to themselves and to the reader. With this distinction, the writer is now positioned to discover the hidden meanings of motives, without thinking in terms of shock-and-awe moments of transformation in a character. In my new novel Deep North, the central character doesn’t change, but she comes to understand what matters most to her, and just how far she’s willing to go to get it.

Note, I didn’t say it’s good to get obsessed with writer reference books. I just said that we all do it, from what I’ve seen, and there’s no judgment. :) I think that reading other writers is just as important. And of course, if you’re not writing, then you’re not growing as a writer. There has to be a balance, a sweet spot, as in just about everything.

And with due respect, I will always emphasis that stories are about characters who change. Always, always, always. Even if it’s a change in viewpoint, revealing a core strength for example that the character didn’t know she possessed, that realization should come about through facing conflict. I can’t tell you how many manuscripts I’ve read where the resolution simply comes about because the character suddenly decides “you know what, it’s not that big a deal,” changes his or her mind, and then the ending works out. That is an ugly Deus ex Machina, and is ultimately unsatisfying.

Transformation doesn’t have to be shock and awe — not all novels need it, and in many, that kind of change just isn’t appropriate and won’t give readers satisfaction. You don’t need a car crash for characters to figure out they’re in love (although so many people resort to that kind of thing.) But I can give you a dark moment where two people are simply talking in a kitchen, the dissolution of a marriage, where one walks away, and it is more gut-wrenching and emotionally harrowing than any physical explosion. Small can still be powerful. In fact, that’s where I feel the biggest challenges are.

It’s funny — so many of the issues I bump into with writers is a matter of terminology. What I think of when I think story, conflict, plot, is different than what others think, because of the way we’ve been taught. I’m always glad to read your insight, and see things from another perspective!

Cathy- I was taught, and firmly believe, that if your character doesn’t change, it’s not a story.

And I think Barry said (maybe without realizing it) that his character did change: “the central character doesn’t change, but she comes to understand what matters most to her, and just how far she’s willing to go to get it.”

She “comes to understand” something she didn’t before — that’s change.

And I agree with you about character. I tend to think: Character is plot.

Hey Coach, great post. I can’t thank you enough for helping me to define my storytelling through character plot points. What you’ve outlined here, which you taught me long ago now, is a tool I will use for the rest of my career. I still refer to Rock Your Plot very routinely (for those of you how don’t have this book, go download it now!). Keeping it simple has taken my bloated, multi-protagonist mess(es) to another level.

But I’ve found myself needed to dig for the complex again. Can you believe that when I started this prequel story, it actually appealed to me because I thought Thaedan’s father would be so much more straightforward? He was an ambitious ass, right? Willing to kill and to sacrifice lives in the name of grasping his piece of the imperial pie. Turns out it’s never that simple. And now I find myself back in pantser mode. The road map is all laid out, but I’m finding cause for exploring the topographical layout of Vahldan’s goals and motivations. Heck, there might even be subterranean parallel pathways in this one. This guy’s got motivations he doesn’t even recognize, let alone acknowledge, and it’s all buried in layers of shame and fear.

Thank the writing gods (and you) for the framework. I’d be beyond lost without it. Here’s to keeping it simple. May that simplicity ever guide us when the trail twists seem complex.

Vaughn, I am laughing my head off at the thought that Thaedan’s farther would be “much more straightforward.” :D The beauty of your stories is the amazing depth of character, and how that weaves into the narrative. It feels like a true history. Of course you’re going to find that hard to map out — it’s like herding kittens!

But I’m also confident that you’re going to produce something fascinating, richly envisioned, and brilliantly vibrant. Always great to hear from you, my friend!

I wrote and published my first novel without having read anything about how to create plots. I listened to my two protagonists (living in different centuries) and wrote down their stories as they told me. It was a curious ‘writing blind’ process, since I only learned where the plots were taking us as and when they told me. In the light of your article, I look back now at that novel’s structure, and feel relieved to recognize what a good handle each of my characters had on how to tell their tale. I’m also feeling inspired by your post, Cathy, and will keep it to hand as I research and write the sequel – and of course also listen to my characters tell me what happens next. Thank you!

Cathy,Enjoyed your article on plotting. I wish i had seen it before finishing my fifth novel last week. I knew a writer should handle their novels like a play-Act one, two, and three and that conflict should be woven throughout. But I didn’t realize conflict should be in every scene. Thanks for the advice.

There’s nothing better first thing in the morning than the smell of coffee and some practical (meaning, I can use this and do this right now) writing help.Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Reading your article, I could easily see how “all plot comes from character” applies to my stories. About a year ago, I abandoned my first attempt at a novel because I couldn’t identify a “plot”, per se. That is, there were no wars, no murders, no one lost on a mountain, no one on a ledge, etc. But there were people, and I loved them. And for about 60,000 words, every time my inner editor would whisper, “There’s no plot,” I would defend the existence of those people, shouting, “Yes, but there’s a point!” Then one day, finally convinced that even a ‘character driven’ story needs a plot, I gave it up.

So, now I have a WIP (actually, a WIM–work in motion, as progress is relative), that has a plot–and that’s about all. Since the writing now feels like work, I keep telling myself that I’m on the right track–writing is hard, it is work–but the fact is that I’m just not as engaged now. I even created a couple of minor characters that, to this point, serve no purpose, but to keep the writer entertained. So, this afternoon, I’m going to take another look at these two ‘minor’ characters, and at the abandoned story.

I may be back to square one, but the square is beginning to feel pretty solid. Thanks.

You’re still triangulating the balance between your characters and the stuff that happens. That’s a common dilemma, but it’s still a pain while you’re in the thick of it. I like WIM! And yes, writing is work, but it shouldn’t be torturous, in my opinion. (At least, not on a relative scale. If you’re thinking “I would rather work an 80 hour a day job” then you’re probably writing the wrong thing!) It’s like a workout: you need to challenge yourself, not harm yourself!

I really enjoyed this post, particularly the part that discussed the different ways being unclear on a character’s external goal vs. internal goal manifests during the writing process. I’ve been guilty as charged on both counts at one time or another. Right now, I have a particular failed manuscript I wrote years ago that I really want to rewrite. This post will serve as a handy checklist for helping me set up the basic story infrastructure properly this time.

LOVE the point: All plot comes from character. Your story can have, on paper, an absolutely coherent plot … in that it’s easy to see how we get from point A to B to C. But there’s a such thing as the plot driving the character’s actions, rather than the character’s actions driving the plot–and in these situation, the plot will always feel force and ungenuine. Keep the character motivations in mind, stay true to how they would act and why, and the character will lead even the most exciting, action-packed plotlessness.

Reading this post makes me feel like I can plot a full novel right now, but I am guessing we’ve all had that feeling after reading a book on writing, plots, structure, characters, and then we get to the page and… well, it’s not as easy. In any case, this post seems to distill the mechanics of it. I really enjoyed it and just want to thank the author for sharing. I’m currently working on the second draft of a novel that was plotted but predictably shifted and changed as I wrote it. I have a problem with the ending I devised because it feels forced and I think it has to do with this issue of making the character fit a story’s plot points just to bring it to a close, kind of that situation where a writer just kills off the characters at the end because he/she doesn’t know what to do with them. Any suggestions on how to backtrack and find out in revision where your story went wrong?

Victor, I’d say write out a scene outline after the fact, charting what scenes you have, and then look at whose POV the scene is in, what the character’s goal is for that scene, and what the conflict *to that goal* is. You’ll also want to make sure that the goal for the scene is organic to either your character’s internal or external overarching story goal. That way, you don’t have weird left turns or “oh no, I need you do this now, even though nothing you’ve done up to this point makes that a natural conclusion!” You’ll be able to see where you’re veering off track and tweak scenes accordingly. Hope that helps!